


gods and monsters

by Lancelee (ashleeforreal)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARI, M/M, lance is just trying to help his little sister, shiro is a storm god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleeforreal/pseuds/Lancelee
Summary: The light also reached the man’s face, leaving Lance stunned as he blinked blearily. Perhaps he really was in heaven. Or purgatory, if the cold seeming to swallow his body was an indicator. The man had a prominent scar over his nose, and the backs of his hands betrayed more jagged lines that reminded Lance of the lightning striking across the sky outside. His features were sharp and his jaw was defined, eyes the color of the storm clouds above them and a strange hairstyle that looked like something a royal guard might have, if not for the tuft of white hanging over his forehead. This was the face of the man who saved Lance.Regardless of if I’m dead or not,Lance’s mind supplied,being cold while in an angel’s company doesn’t seem like the worst way to pay for my wrongdoings.





	gods and monsters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heavenlyrare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenlyrare/gifts).



> HAPPPPPPYY Y BIRTHDAY ARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
> 
> stay tuned for the end of this story coming sometime soon ig

Lance stumbles forward through the woods as the thunder rumbled in the sky and the mud squelched beneath his feet, travelling bag full of the money he’d made doing less than desirable work in the city for the past month. He’d served city nobles in the palace stables during the day, had been beaten if his work didn’t meet an impeccable standard that not even the stable manager himself could reach, and in the nights he would loiter outside the seedy alleyways where the same nobles that had sneered at him during the day would come looking for a different kind of satisfaction. He’d made what money he could. It still wasn’t much. It still wasn’t enough.

 

His family was large, and while they had been scraping by for a long while, when his youngest sister had fallen ill with a disease the doctors demanded too high a payment to cure their funds had taken a dip. Treatments to keep her alive took away more than just the small amount of leftover funds his family had, and so Lance had taken on more than his fair share of jobs - but work was scarce in their rural village. His parents had forbidden him from going off to the city to find higher paying work, but Lance knew that things would only continue to get worse if something wasn’t done.

 

And so he had crept out through the window one night, with only two sets of clean clothes and enough money to buy two meals. He could still vividly recall the moment he had turned to close the window behind himself, and saw that his little sister was the only one of his siblings who had awoken at his near silent movements. Her eyes were wide in confusion and she started to move from her bed, and Lance put an arm back inside the room to urge her to stay. Her body was already so weak, unnecessary movement would only lead to her health declining further.

 

“Everything is fine, Alice,” he had urged softly, trying not to wake any of his other, more rowdy siblings, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

Even as Alice had opened her mouth to whisper something back, Lance had only tugged a reassuring grin onto his face, and slid the window shut silently, winking at her before he dashed off.

 

Now, as he trudged through the thick mud that had caked on the road, he regretted maybe not using a bit of the money he’d made to invest in a nicer pair of boots. His own old hand-me-downs weren’t meant for such an environment, or the tedious 3 day travel back to his home village. While the last month had yielded more money to him than he’d made as a field hand in a year, it still wouldn’t be enough for Alice’s operation, but it would be enough for his family to eat for a few weeks and not worry about scrambling to find payment for her sustaining treatments for at least two months. With that thought in mind, Lance found the determination to ignore the way that water filled the soles of his shoes and how the mud tried to suck his feet into the ground, and marched on.

 

The hood of his cloak was pulled up and was already soaked most of the way through, and while its original purpose had been to shade his eyes enough to see where he was going, even that job seemed to be becoming lackluster. Perhaps that is why Lance hadn’t noticed he was no longer precisely on the trail, but walking parallel to it, a few yards inside of the treeline. The road home was not pleasant, and often had twists and turns to avoid large trees or split into two or three different paths only to merge as one later. Lance assumed he was just on a slightly less travelled path, because there was somewhat of a trail to follow, and didn’t question it as the more travelled one went in a different direction.

 

When Lance’s cloak completely failed to protect his eyes, he began staring solely at his boots, just trying to see where they stepped in the mucky undergrowth that his once clear path was now becoming littered with. He couldn’t tell if there was water in his eyes or the trail had disappeared completely, and as he was considering turning back to find the clearer trail, his eyes caught sight of a metallic flash on the ground right before a loud  _ snap _ echoed through the air.

 

The pain was immediate, and Lance couldn’t help the strangled scream that left his mouth. For a few moments he stared down at his right leg in disbelief, watching as blood began gushing from where the teeth of the bear trap had dug deep into his skin. Lance was already becoming dizzy from the sight, able to see the bone inside, and as a thoughtless reaction he tried to pull his leg out by pushing down on the sides with his hands. He immediately realized the foolishness of his actions as the teeth dragged sharp against his tibia, and that combined with the cold press of the metal on his hands took over his senses. A bloodcurdling scream ripped from his throat as he tried to adjust his leg back to the original position, but only brought more pain upon himself. A bright flash blinded Lance as lightning struck a tree only a few hundred yards away, his sobbing drowned out by the rumble of the thunder. While the light had flashed, Lance had spotted a shadow low to the ground out of the corner of his eye, but hadn’t turned as his mind was still manic with agony.

 

The sound of thunder tapered out, and yet the low rumble dragged on, and it wasn’t until it had been a full half minute of the sound that Lance’s dizzy mind had realized the rumbling was no longer coming from the direction where the lightning had struck. His head sluggishly turned to the side, eyes widening as he saw the large wolf stalking slowly towards him. Lance’s sobbing ceased abruptly, replaced now with a weak, uncontrollable whimper as he watched his fate approach him with no means to stop it. He supposed he should have listened to his mother, now.

 

The growl only increased in intensity, and as the wolf came close enough and began tensing to pounce, Lance’s shoulders relaxed and he let his eyes slide closed as he accepted his end. He had no weapons, his mind was nearly ready to black out from blood loss, and the cold of the rain soaking through his clothes combined with his draining body heat left him so cold his body was already sinking into numbness. His last lucid thought was that he wished he could see Alice one last time, to fulfill his promise and return to her. His eyes were still closed but he saw the bright flash of lightning strike a tree within feet of him and his predator, and the overbearing shaking of the ground and thunder seemed to almost console him as it lulled him into a blissful sleep.

 

~*~ 

 

When Lance’s eyes opened, he was in some sort of small cottage, not seeming to be much more than four study walls with two windows. Despite the rain still pelting against the window, the walls were thick enough to mute the sound of the storm still raging outside. Lance thought, for a moment, that this was what the afterlife must have been - but then he felt the cold wracking his limbs and sending shivers all the way to the tips of his toes. He was swathed in at least four giant blankets, and the fireplace in front of him was radiating warmth, yet he still felt chilled to the bone. Lance wanted to continue looking around the small cabin, but even moving his head seemed too laborious.

 

A whine slipped past his lips without his permission, and the wind outside grew louder for a moment as the trees surrounding the house swayed, and almost hid the sound of movement from somewhere behind Lance. He paused, too afraid to move or make a sound. The sequence of events had been too much for him, and now he was in an unknown place in the woods with a stranger whose intent he hadn’t gleaned yet. The panic was setting into him quickly, breath that had once been struggling to get in and out now hitting in a fast staccato. Lance slammed his eyes shut as the stranger approached, body tensing as he heard them come to stand in front of him.

 

There was the rustle of fabric as they crouched in front of him, and when a warm hand brushed Lance’s cheek his breathing ceased completely. There was silence for a few moments as the person probably realized that Lance was scared, before a soft hushing sound that was reminiscent of the thunder still rumbling in the distance. It calmed Lance, but only a little as he worked up the courage to open his eyes.

 

The stranger was a man - and a rather large one at that. His arms were probably the size of Lance’s head, and even with the kind gesture of caressing Lance’s face checking his temperature, it still scared him back when the face was shadowed, the man’s back to the fire.

 

“There’s no need to be scared,” the man urged, sounding upset as the wind howled against the sides of the house outside, “I’m not going to hurt you. Everything’s alright.”

 

The man shuffled backwards a bit, still crouched, and to the side of the fireplace enough that the warmth and light could reach Lance’s body again. The light also reached the man’s face, leaving Lance stunned as he blinked blearily. Perhaps he really was in heaven. Or purgatory, if the cold seeming to swallow his body was an indicator. The man had a prominent scar over his nose, and the backs of his hands betrayed more jagged lines that reminded Lance of the lightning striking across the sky outside. His features were sharp and his jaw was defined, eyes the color of the storm clouds above them and a strange hairstyle that looked like something a royal guard might have, if not for the tuft of white hanging over his forehead. This was the face of the man who saved Lance.  _ Regardless of if I’m dead or not,  _ Lance’s mind supplied,  _ being cold while in an angel’s company doesn’t seem like the worst way to pay for my wrongdoings. _

 

A booming laugh echoed into the cabin, startling Lance as it bounced back at him off the walls and the thunder clapped so loudly outside that the house shook with it, a piece of wood that had been supported by another falling over and sending sparks flying as the man continued laughing. Lance flushed as he realized his lips had moved of their own accord, and tried to pull the already tight blankets closer as he shrunk back into them in mortification.

 

“Excuse me, I usually don’t speak out of turn like that,” Lance apologized, mind churning sluggishly to catch up with the situation at hand, “I’ve just been through a lot the past few days.”

 

The man quirked an eyebrow, falling forward to his knees and crawling close enough to put a hand on Lance’s shaking shoulder. “You certainly have. I promise there won’t be any more struggle here, I only wish to help you recover as best you can. My name is Shiro.”

 

Lance quirked his lips into a crooked grin as he bumped his shoulder against Shiro’s warm hand in way of greeting. “It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Lance. May I ask what has afforded me your kindness and hospitality?”

 

“Well,” Shiro simpered, eyes seeming to flash with mirth, “perhaps you are not the only one that feels they are in the presence of an angel.”

 

If Lance had any body heat of his own he was sure he would have blushed, but as it were he only felt a more pleasant shiver make its way down his spine as the kind stranger stood to head over to a stove on the other side of the cabin. Lance still didn’t have the strength to move much, but he did manage to shuffle himself around enough to see the rest of the room, mindful of his leg.

 

Despite its size, the house itself was decorated nicely - all of the furniture seemed a bit old but in working order, and the blankets he was cradled in and the ones on the bed didn’t seem to have any holes or be threadbare. There were curtains around the windows, but they were pulled back to expose the way the rain dripped down the glass, and the hearth of the fireplace was clean. The stove Shiro was stirring a pot on top of was fairly clean and had a working latch on the door to the fire, unlike the one at home -

 

And suddenly Lance was more aware of his exact circumstance, and his eyes searched despairingly for his travelling bag, finally exhaling a sigh of relief as he spotted it hanging on a rack in front of the fire. The relief was short-lived, however, as he noticed not only his cloak but the rest of his clothes hanging from the same rack, now mostly dry. He was all at once keenly aware of the way the thickest blanket, closest to his body, dragged across his skin, and he felt a little sick to his stomach. Shiro had seen him, and while in the ways he had been making money his body wasn’t something he often hid, he felt ashamed that Shiro had probably seen the bruises that littered his whole being. Whether they had come from the stable manager or nobles that had been dissatisfied with the sounds Lance sometimes made, his ribs and arms were mottled with a patchwork of colors ranging from purple to yellow.

 

Lance swallowed the bile that threatened to rise, but only kept silent as he heard Shiro pouring whatever he had made into two bowls and approached Lance again. Lance kept his eyes to the ground, no longer able to look Shiro in the eyes as the bowl was placed in front of him. Lance thanked him softly, but made no move to take his arms out of the blanket to eat. Shiro made a questioning noise, and noticed the way Lance’s eyes only flickered towards his clothes at the sound. Shiro’s face flushed, and he quickly began spouting reassurances. 

 

“I didn’t look for long, I promise, I was only checking for injuries besides the obvious one! It was better to get you out of your wet clothes, they would only have made it worse, so I hung them up to dry. I didn’t have a way to ask without you possibly dying,” Shiro explained, tone pleading. Lance felt his shoulders curl in the longer Shiro talked, as the man missed the point entirely.

 

“I’m not concerned with you seeing my body,” Lance admitted, fingers clutching at the innermost blanket so hard he feared it might rip, “I’m not unfamiliar with strangers seeing it, unfortunately.”

 

Shiro flinched at the implication, peering down at his own bowl of soup. “I wanted to ask about the bruises, yes, but that’s your own personal matter. It’s not my business if you’re not inclined to tell me.”

 

Lance turned the thought over in his head, and it may have been a little soon, but seeing as this man had been nothing but kind and was also offering his home and help while his leg recovered, Lance didn’t see a reason why Shiro shouldn’t be privy to the information. So Lance told him, about large family that struggled to have even bread on the table, about his sister falling ill, about escaping to the city in the hopes of being able to make more money to help them. He spoke of the stable manager and the way he was talked down to, of the nights spent waiting for rich men in alleyways, and then of his journey home, and how he’d led himself down the wrong path not even a day’s travel in. Shiro listened intently, and when Lance became comfortable enough to pull his arms free of the blankets to eat, covered in bruises as they were, Shiro did nothing but help Lance by holding the bowl.

 

After the bowls had been put in the basin for washing the next day, and Lance was curled back up in his blankets, Shiro eyed the bed on the other side of the room but chose to sit with Lance instead. He asked before he rubbed Lance’s back, soothing him to sleep as the thunder rumbled on, calming, outside. As Lance drifted off, the god’s eyes softened as he gazed down at the man that had stumbled into his territory by accident. He hadn’t had someone come deep enough into his forest for a long while, and he was pained to think he would have to let this man, who seemed to want nothing more than to help his family, return home. Something in Shiro’s heart tugged, a feeling he hadn’t felt since he was a mortal himself.

 

He laid back on the ground a bit behind Lance, continuing to rub relaxing circles between Lance’s shoulder blades, and soon drifted off to sleep himself, the storm outside finally calming and starting to end as its god slumbered.


End file.
